


I Love (To Hurt) You

by LadyCookieCupcake



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M, France POV, Love/Hate Relationship, M/M, Multi, Posted also on Quotev Deviantart and Wattpad, sequel to other France/Reader story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-03 03:00:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6594007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyCookieCupcake/pseuds/LadyCookieCupcake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bascially the sequel to I Hate You, I Love You (France/Reader). Written in France's POV, told a little before the events in I Hate You, I Love You and a little after.</p><p>Hope ya enjoy :D</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Love (To Hurt) You

Is it supposed to hurt like this? Is it supposed to be this suffocating? The silence is deafening, the walls are closing in and the darkness seems to be everywhere, even when he's awake. Surely it's not meant to be like this, like he actually...cares about this now.  
  
He doesn't. Why would he? He will admit this was all his own doing, entirely his fault, but honestly he had nothing to feel guilty about. They were just a thing that was there, a convenient relief constantly waiting at home, hoping, praying the next time he came home he'd love them, and he would never do so. He'd come home and they'd fall into their usual routine of cat and mouse, except this mouse earned to be eaten. This mouse wanted to be devoured by the ever-hungry cat, and who was the cat to turn down a good meal?  
  
When things started turning sour, he noticed. Of course he did, there was no way of living in that environment all the time and never know about the sudden tensity in the house. He wasn't stupid, no matter what the other nations may think and say. He was not stupid nor blind, he could very well see what he was doing to the other. He just didn't really care (and maybe, just maybe, that was due to fear of ironically abandonment rather than boredom of someone).  
  
He noticed the way the other would glare at him when they thought he wasn't looking, he noticed the pained looks of love twisting their faces until they looked like just one horrifying monster of pure agony and yearning love. There was a side of him that wanted to go up to them and hug them, envelope them in his strong arms and whisper sweet nothings, loving promises that they both knew were empty but just didn't care in that moment (and only one really didn't want to admit). But then there was the side of him that just didn't care. Of course, he wanted to. At first, he so desperately wanted to feel the love that the other felt towards him. He wanted to kiss and smile and know that they were the loving kiss and happy smile one showed their lover, their dreamed One, their future spouse. But he just...couldn't.  
  
It was as if by staring into those (E/C) eyes, instead of feeling the pull of a soulmate, the nervous butterflies twisting his stomach, everything had shut down inside of him, refusing to corporate with even the slightest bit of love and kindness. When he was with the other, he didn't feel like himself. He felt empty, lonely, depressed. He felt like the entire world was against him, and yes, he knew he had no right or reason to feel this. He was loved by a beautiful person both inside and out, there was no reason for feeling like this.  
  
He just couldn't help it. He wanted to, oh how desperately he wanted to just push the other away, shove them as far as possible and run, run, run far, far away until they were but a dark spec in the distance, just another stranger in the crowd, yet another human that would die while he lived on.  
  
But Francis was nothing if not selfish, and no matter how hard he pushed himself to get rid of the other, to separate them from him, he just couldn't. He had to have the other near, he just had to. Even if it meant hurting the other, even if it meant hurting himself, even if there was still a somewhat distance between them, even if this distant, love-hate thing they had going made the other hate themselves for loving him, he had to grip them tightly, hold them within his deceivingly warm embrace, whisper those disgusting sweet nothings in their ear, promise things they both knew he'd never give.  
  
And no matter how much he hated himself for it, how much he wanted to punch himself for this hurt he was causing the other, this depression he was just sinking further into, Francis just couldn't find it within himself to care. As long as he had the other - maybe not by his side, but still there - , he did not care. He had them, maybe not in a way both would rather it be, but he had them.  
  
*  
  
When Francis came home from yet another world meeting filled with endless shouting and pointless arguments, he knew he should have expected the empty silence. He knew he should have expected the forgotten grocery bags left fallen on their side, the wardrobe left half-empty due to the lack of the other's clothes. He should have expected to lose (Y/N), they were Human after all. All Humans had limits, and most preferred to leave before they reached those limits.  
  
Still, it didn't stop him from shaking his head, refusing even this simple knowledge that (Y/N) was gone, and clumsily stumbling towards the bedroom, their bedroom - god, his bedroom - and throwing open the door, somehow wishing despite the obvious evidence, that this was just one huge prank done by a fed-up (Y/N) who just wanted him to love them, to stop with this silly little game they had and both hated. It didn't stop him from falling to his knees, his breath suddenly hitched and eyes stinging, chest tightened and limbs suddenly numb as he tried searching through blurry vision, as if (Y/N) may have been hiding in the shadows and would pop out any minute now.  
  
They wouldn't. Of course they weren't. (Y/N) had finally given up, as was expected. ( _Later on, when he sat alone in the living room, a half-drunk bottle of the finest wine his country had, mind too numb to think of anything but heart still aching, he'd absently wonder why that_   _fact alone hurt him more than he thought anything ever would._ ) (Y/N) had finally walked out, choosing their own life to a life filled with self-hatred and, well, him. Francis would have laughed, had he been in the right mindset of course, at how despite the pain and the anger and the, well, everything he was feeling, he still couldn't help but feel immensely proud (Y/N) had finally given up and left, for themselves. Not for him but for themselves.  
  
He'd be lying if he said that wasn't what he wanted from the beginning, to save themselves before he destroyed them. It's just sad it had to take destroying them, breaking them down, making them so dependent upon him and him alone, to make them finally stand up and run as far away as possible from him.


End file.
